Mystic Transition
by LeShyWolf
Summary: If folklore tales suddenly become your life, your family is different, and everything is suspiciously familiar to the plot of a TV show; how can you tell if you're insane, it's a dream, or it's the worse option of all… what if it's real?
1. Chapter 1: The Transition

**Sidenote: This doesn't mean I'm abandoning New Life. But this is pretty much a semi-remake because I didn't like some aspects in the old one- though I will be keeping some of them. For my regular readers, I hope y'all aren't too mad at me. As for new readers- hi! I hope you enjoy this story! XD *much love***

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What did it mean to be insane?

The very definition was loose, someone who didn't understand morality. Was it when someone who couldn't tell the difference from right and wrong? Someone who couldn't tell what was real or part of their imagination? Was it to do the same thing, over and over and over again, expecting another result from a repetitive pattern? To be have all sense of rationality evaporated from your brain?

To entirely become another person overnight with no logical explanation?

Rephrased; have could you tell the difference between a dream and reality? If you weren't a lucid dreamer. How would you tell? How can you tell if it was fantasy, or in your head?

The tricky conclusion _;_ ** _you can't._**

Air slammed into my chest with the brute force of a freight train, jolting my entire body. I hastily snapped up. My lungs contracted, mouth dropping open to sharply inhale a gasp of air. A light overwhelmed my eyes, sending a wave of pain through my corneas. I couldn't make sense. Everything was blurring too fast. The world suddenly closed the curtains, engulfing me in darkness, shutting my mind off.

It wasn't long until the feeling rushed back. Nausea crawled over my head, writhing in my gut. I expressed a deep groan. A beam glaring in my vision was red behind my lids, almost blinding me when I tried to see. Lightly, I groaned in disgust at the morning-after taste lingering on the roof of my mouth. I rolled my tongue, feeling the tip of my nose crinkle at the dryness of my parched throat. _Why am I so thirsty?_

I forcefully peeled open my eyes.

There was a haze clutching my head, which took a while to pass. I squinted through it, blinking away the sleep caging me. After it cleared, I found myself staring vacantly at a cheaply made looking wicker chandelier. Switched off with dust bunnies and thin lines of web stringing across it.

 _I don't own a chandelier….?_

The first thought of my conscious mind cooled my blood, and my initial reaction was to crane my head to the side, eyes slowly scanning the area with trepidation clenching in my stomach, allowing my inquisitive gaze to drink in the unfamiliar sights.

The 'L' shaped room was framed with white walls that were drastically losing colour, fading into a very light toned yellow, it's wallpaper curling at the bottom with age. My nose crinkled at the sight of patches of mold growing. On my right there was a crooked coffee table that looked like it was on it's last legs, ever so slightly tilted, with a book underneath one of its support pillars to- I assumed - keep it even.

Ahead of me at a diagonal angle was a large glass pane over showing a couple buildings and cerulean sky. Cornflower blue curtains were suspended either side, allowing the warm sun rays to pour through the window. It shined down onto the ashen floorboards underneath me, skimming over the glinting dust floating in the air.

I saw a kitchen tucked away in a corner, next to the short corridor that lead to an old red door. A grey fridge, rusted looking oven and a few black countertops. An opened box of cereal next to an idle bowl. Piled dirty plates in the sink, flies circling above them. My eyebrows furrowed, mouth dipping into a disgusted frown at the stale smell.

Another quick, startled glance around let me realise that it wasn't a room but rather a small apartment. I was in the middle of it all, propped up with my bare legs flat on the cold, wooden floorboards, half asleep.

"...The fuck…?" The sluggish profanity slipped out, murmured in my tired state.

I was alone, by the looks of things.

I pressed my palms either side of me onto the solid wood and fumbled to my feet. Blood rushed to my head when I pushed myself up too fast and my hand darted out to grab the wall so I didn't topple over. I took a deep breath, blinking away the fizzing spots in my vision.

 _Would kill for a drink…_

I licked my chapped lips with a grimace and my gaze lifted toward the mini kitchen. Ready to remove myself from the wall, I moved away, taking a step forward. Gravity felt heavier than usual but when it was evident I wasn't going to introduce my face to the ground, I kept foundering further.

When I grew closer, the flies whizzed near my face, so I picked up the faded tea towel hanging from the stove handle. I whipped it around, leading them to the opened window. After five minutes of this tedious process, most of them were gone. Mildly satisfied, I opened the cabinets which were mounted on the wall above the counters.

"Bingo," I grunted, sounding slightly hoarse. I set my sights on the only clean glass, picking it up and filling it with water before eagerly gulping it down. Sighing with relief, I placed it on the counter and turned to face the foreign apartment, gaze narrowing. Incertitude stabbed my gut, and I wrapped my arms over each other.

 _Now, where the hell am I? Who does this apartment belong to? Why am I here? How did I get here? Who was I with last night-?_

There was a flash in my head, along with an aching throb. Long and thin dark eyes, a head full of jet black hair, lanky figure. A boy. There was that familiar, nostalgic sensation in the back of my head. So I knew him, but what was his name? Who was he to me? Was he with me last night? Speaking of- what was I doing last night?

Phone, I reminded myself, mentally flicking my skull. _Idiot_.

Maybe my texts and calls would give me clues.

I patted myself down, feeling around in denim jean pockets, both front and back. I squashed down the worry, which was slithering below the surface when I couldn't feel the solid shape of my old crappy phone.

In the ocean of questions, another one popped up and took priority. Jacket. Where's my jacket?

It wasn't as though I were materialistic and more concerned with my vanity items- though it was my favorite jacket- but my means of communicating with family was somewhat vital. Especially with my condition.

My gaze darted around, from the coca coloured corner sofa with marled knitted cushions, to the messy desk pushed up along the wall next to the large window, I spotted my beloved sprawled on the floor by the door, next to a pair of cruddy trainers. My jacket was a dark muddy colour, which extended just below the hips with a hood and had deep pockets, unlike most feminine clothing.

In the midst of picking up my jacket, I eyed the grubby shoes somewhat warily, wondering where the owner of them were.

"There you are you little shit," I mumbled to myself and my shoulders released tension in relief-

Only to realise my phone was dead.

"Bollocks," I hissed lowly. I clenched my jaw, shoving my arm through the sleeve before doing the same with the other one, shoving my phone back in its place.

Communication is out, maybe there's a landline here.

But after searching, I nearly threw the opened box of cereal in frustration when- surprise, surprise, there was no landline.

Okay. Think, I rubbed my face, leading my hands up to comb back my hair. No landline. Phone is dead. This guy- or girl, whoever lives here, doesn't have a charger for some reason. You woke up in a stranger's house and you don't know where you are.

 _Right_. I bit down on my lip. _Location. Focus on location._

I walked to the door, opening and closing it behind me to be graced with the image of stairs. Mentally kicking myself for not taking my pills, I grabbed the metallic railing and started my descent. My thoughts blanked out the sound of my feet clanging against the steps, plagued by a burning determination for answers.

Reaching the ground floor, I casually sauntered outside, hands in my two front jean pockets.

Only to freeze in position, and to be harshly slapped with a strong haze of confusion. I felt my nose twitch as I sniffled and adjusted the position of my glasses. I rose my eyes from the pavement, searching far and wide to gather my bearings.

"The fuck." I spit under my breath once again that morning, reeling back a startled step.

The town wasn't any I recalled. Buildings didn't click. Signs didn't look familiar. Names of streets were as foreign to me as a blind man trying to name colours.

An old man with a brown flat top and black cane ambled across, sparing me a skeptical glance when I didn't move from the spot I picked for staring at everything.

I also noticed the cars.

Not necessarily the cars, but the side of the _road_.

They were driving on the _wrong side._

In the middle of my dazed walk, I twirled, but still continued strolling backwards. I stared at the car driving by, the person inside oblivious to my baffled ogling.

I quietly repeated my earlier statement, "the fuck?"

After wandering around this new, unexplored area the lack of old, grimy payphones threw me off. Even in the suburban areas they were around, granted some rare ones didn't even have the phone attached anymore from abuse but the booths existed. Here it was like it wasn't even a concept. It was weird. It was annoying.

Was I scared? Perhaps a tiny bit. That feeling never truly left me even as I got used to it by the twentieth time, but it was always there like an insistent picidae. That survival instinct telling me something was off. This was rubbing me the wrong way. Nothing was right about this.

Everything was bad. The air brushed my skin, heated more than the mundane English weather. A strong smell of cut grass forced into my nostrils, causing me to glance over at a middle aged man with a receding hairline, who was bent over his fence swiping at his shiny, damp head. Right next to the lawn mower.

I was getting so frustrated that I wanted to scream at the nearest person that waddled by, who happened to be a pregnant woman looking ready to pop, her hand bracing her lower back, the other on the top of her big belly. She noticed me twitching and anxiously hurried her step.

 _Calm down, calm down, calm down._

I held my breath, then released a long drag of air.

My stomach growled.

Okay. Can't think on an empty stomach. Do I have money-

I unzipped the inside pocket of my jacket, faltering when I pulled out a singular note. _What-?_ The absence of the Queen's face made me do a double take. I stalled and then held it up, gawking at Abraham Lincoln's features. His gaze staring intently back at me. _American- dollars? What in the world?_

I questioned my activities last night, trying once again to file through my memories only to come up blank. I swallowed the hard lump forming in my throat, a snake of worry wriggling back up. I swatted the increasing feeling, shoving the money back into my pocket.

 _Alright. Fine. American money. Where the hell did I get it? What the fuck happened last night? Did I get drunk? Drugged? Kidnapped?_

I recalled tiredly skimming over stories on social media websites when procrastinating from essays. Pointedly a French gang trafficking people as their living-drug-holders, placing small bags into their organs and moving them across different countries to smuggle them in for profit. Talk about a horror story.

Shuddering at the thought, I decided to find a bathroom, to check for any unsettling scars being in places they shouldn't be.

It lead me to the corner of a road, with a building. Through the windows I could see it bustling with people. Mildly interested, I rose my head up to the restaurant name.

Mystic Grill.

Hm.

Vaguely, it sounded familiar, but I didn't take the time to dwindle on it.

I entered, letting the door slowly swing close behind me.

Warmth brushed against my revealed skin, ears instantly greeted by faintly indistinct music, the lively chatter of patrons and the metallic scraping of knives and forks against plates. It all melded together into one inconceivable blur as I made my way toward the toilets.

What unsettled me even more were the snippets of conversations that reached my ears.

It wasn't what they were talking about that made me uneasy.

It was that they were all mainly American.

There was not one British person. Irish. English. Scottish. Welsh. No one from Liverpool, Manchester, absolutely no east Londoners, it didn't make sense unless I was in a strictly tourist area where mainly Americans roamed. A few Americans, fair enough. Made sense. But when they were all strictly American-

It was off putting and strange, considering I lived in London. I felt isolated and beginning to feel the icy creep of dread over what I got myself into this time. My breath shuddered, fingers gripping the sides of the metallic square sink until my knuckles paled of all colour, which was impressive considering I was pretty pale.

 _Am I losing it?_ Blue eyes levelled in the mirror, peering over an upturned nose. _No, I'm not okay. I feel like crap._ "I'm okay…"

 _You're talking to yourself, isn't that the first sign?_

"Stop it," I muttered aloud, lifting a hand to wipe my face once more. Is this a dream?

Almost as if to test this, I brought my hand up and pinched my cheek, pulling and stretching the skin. My palm pressed along the cooling glass, pulling away and leaving a smudge, the friction squeaking. I could feel it all. Taste the stale air in the restroom, the hot water rushing down on my fingers when I ran them underneath the tap.

I pushed the door open, eyes flickering to find someone that could help me.

 _There_.

A woman with long, corn silk blonde hair and emerald eye shadow was walking around a table, platter tucked underneath her arm. I moved toward her and moved in her path. The older woman glanced down with a friendly customer-serving smile, the tense corners of her eyes revealed her annoyance. I ignored it.

"Hi," I greeted curtly, feeling a little impatient for social obligations, but I kept a polite enough tone whilst speaking. "Sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering…" there was no other way to say it, so I continued bluntly, "Could you help me out? I'm lost."

The edge to her features softened to something akin to concern, mixing with mild confusion. "Lost?"

Her twang didn't help settle the unease bubbling in my chest.

"I just want to know where I am, if I'm honest." I forced a short chuckle, feeling a tad awkward I had to rely on a stranger for something embarrassing such as this. "I have a condition. Pill-prescribed and everything. Forgot to take them. Ended up waking up in a place I don't know."

At my explanation, her eyes seemed to grow pitiful. I squirmed uncomfortably under her sympathetic gaze, averting my eyes to my chipped purple nail varnish. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry, that must be horrible to live with!"

"I'm used to it," I stiffly leaned back, wishing she would stop staring. "Anyway, can you tell me-"

"Let me get you some water!" The blonde woman cut me off and bounced her way toward the bar, I watched her leave my table with disbelieving and slightly narrowed eyes as she called over her shoulder, "on the house!"

"For fuck sake," I held my head in my hands. I just wanted to know where I was! Before I knew it, she was back, putting the glass of clear liquid in front of me. I cupped it, begrudgingly lifting it to my lips to have a sip.

"Oh, my bad!" She chirped happily. "Welcome to Mystic Falls, the best town in Virginia!"

I choked on my water and nearly dropped the glass, sputtering unattractively. I broke into a coughing fit, and the blonde waitress hastily passed me a napkin. I wiped the drool from my mouth and shrewdly stared.

Slowly, I asked, "Beg your pardon?"

"I know, it's a bit of a silly name but it grows on you!" The peppy woman giggled, a tint of pink in her cheeks. She didn't quite seem to understand why I had my reaction. "The waterfalls are pretty too, it's the main tourist attraction and I can definitely see why it's on the-"

"Betty," I read out loud the name tag clipped onto her perfectly ironed shirt, interrupting the enthusiastic rambling.

"I must say, you have the most adorable accent, what part of the UK are you-"

"Did you say Virginia?" Mystic Falls, my brain taunted, but I dismissed it. I was more interested in the state.

"Yup!" There was a wide grin on her too-happy face. The whiteness of her pearly teeth gave me a migraine. "I was born and raised here! I recommend the steak house on Eric Aven-"

I zoned her out.

I had a habit of sleepwalking- more than a simple habit really.

It was harmless early in life.

At first, the furthest I got was my parents room. Then the bathroom, and even in the garden. I had woken up with dirt on my face, crisping leaves stuck to my wild hair. One time I ate the play dough preserved in the fridge and another I drank the entirety of a concentrated blackcurrant bottle, which gave me quite the stomach ache in the morning.

The most danger at the time was the cutlery draw, which my father soon locked up at night.

It was only when I stood on the edge of my window, my mother called the therapist.

It was when I recently woke up in the middle of a freezing lake, almost drowning, my father demanded that I have medication.

Suffice to say, I was unfazed to waking up in unfamiliar places. You could even say I grew to be in tune with it, especially since one time I ended up in the middle of a park that was an hour's bus trip over. Other people may have freaked out, be scared, disorientated. Maybe it was like that to start with but now it was normal to me. I just got annoyed.

But this was ... _different_. So much more different.

This time, I was in another _**country**_.


	2. Chapter 2: The Misplaced

_**Imma try to write more. Stay tuned. Enjoy.**_

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It was peaceful.

For a while, at least.

I left the restaurant without a word, not answering the anxious questions from Betty, and found myself wandering around a park. In the back of my mind, I realised it seemed to have regular maintenance due to the luscious grass. It was littered by beautiful and vibrant flowers. A well groomed brigade of trees were either side of the concrete path, towering my small frame. Birds tweeted occasionally, and a few leaves fluttered down.

A squirrel skittered away when I neared it. I numbly sat on a wooden bench, hunched over. A pigeon tilted its head, hopping over to me cautiously. I watched it peck the crumbs on the ground in front of me somewhat distantly, lost in my thoughts.

 _Another country_ _._ I royally screwed myself over now.

How did that even happen? I didn't have the money for a plane ticket. I knew I was capable of getting the bus somewhere, but flying. It wasn't possible. The only solution I could think of was that I was kidnapped, mentally ill with a severe personality disorder or…

I held my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes.

 _What the fuck am I doing?_

Maybe if I contacted the police, hospital-

My phone didn't even work, and I didn't even know where the station was let alone where to get professional help.

I sourly dwelled on Betty's words but one particular name stuck out like a clown at a funeral, Mystic Falls. In a way, I knew where I was, but it was a revelation that forced an almost hysterical chuckle, because it was a ridiculous notion.

Mystic Falls, the same name as the town in a TV show.

I wasn't daft, I knew the location was sort of real. That they just had the set in the area, but it was mainly a place for tourists, for big fans of the show. It was my understanding the tickets were expensive- and I wasn't exactly the richest around. Maybe I could afford it if I saved, but the plane ticket itself would maybe take half a year to earn.

When something cold and slimy touched my leg, my head snapped up in alarm. Big, adorable brown eyes stared up at me. A fluffy tail attached to its equally fur covered body wagging left and right. I blinked and stretched out a hand toward its floppy ear. Happily, he- or she, panted with pleasure and licked my palm.

"Hey there," I murmured, feeling the tension in my shoulders slightly fade, being replaced with a slither of warmth. The corners of my mouth twitched upward. "Aren't you a cutie?"

His coat was sleek, shiny and golden. He seemed like a real charmer with an unconditionally loving gaze. It was almost as if he could sense my distress, because he whined and nudged my fingers with his big, wet nose. I softly chuckled, scratching underneath his jugular. I was rewarded with another frantic tail wag.

It was temporary, but I was thankful for the short distraction from my troubles.

"Bongo!"

The dog's head darted to the left the instant it heard the male voice calling for- what I assumed to be him. I craned my neck, tilting my head toward the source.

A guy was jogging our way. He had medium length brown hair and an indistinguishable tattoo crawling up the side of his neck. When he finally reached us, he quickly knelt next to the dog. The stranger briefly glanced up at me with a sheepish smile. I caught sight of inky eyes.

"Sorry about him, m'am." he apologised, wrapping the leash twice around his hand for extra security. Bongo fidgeted on the spot impatiently, his tongue flicking up to swipe it across the bottom of his owners neck. I noticed a charming southern twang to his voice.

"It's fine," despite my situation, I lightly smiled. "I love dogs."

Surprise flitted across his face for a second, before it faded into curiosity. "You're British?"

 _I suppose I'm going to get a lot of that._

"Well, I still hold onto the notion I was born on Mars," a playful grin made its way to my mouth. "But my family always deny me."

"Nice to meet ya, Miss Martian." Pearly teeth bared and his dark eyes lit up with amusement. "Are ya new to the town?"

I clasped my hands together between my lap, leaning my elbows across my knees. I lowered my eyes to the ground with a sigh. "I guess you could say that."

"A woman with mystery and beauty, that's a dangerous thing," I looked back up at him, blinking in mild surprise when he held out his hand toward me. "I'm Duncan."

"Avis," I introduced myself, and a light bulb popped up in my head. I nibbled on my thumbnail for a few seconds before I pushed the words out, "Say, Duncan, could you, uh, help me out with something?"

Due to my questioning tone, his features became inquisitive. He seemed tentative at first, but gave me an easy smile. "It's my duty as a gentleman to help a lady in need. What appears to be the problem?"

"Can I borrow your phone?" I quickly elaborated after seeing the glimmer of caution. "Only for a minute, mine is dead and the charger is broken."

The last bit wasn't true, but I needed this to speed along.

"I suppose," he dug into his jeans, pulling out an iPhone (to my slight distaste). He wiggled it in offering and I took it with a grateful glance. He reached forward, tapping in the pin number. It unlocked, revealing the background image of himself and Bongo.

I swiped the screen, clicking the phone dial. After entering the memorised digits, I pressed the cold phone to my ear.

Nothing answered at first, and then a voice cracked through the speaker. It was strangely husky, but jarringly familiar, "hey-" the smokers octave split into a cough, before demanding, "what do you want?"

Her voice was cold, irritable. So unlike the usual upbeat and chirpy woman I knew.

I hesitated, breath hitching in my throat. Before she could hang up I spoke, "mum?"

There was a pregnant pause. An icy trickle wormed down the base of my neck. Something was …very off. This was wrong. I adjusted the phone, feeling my heart skip a beat during the heavy silence. "Mum, it's Avis."

The standoffish tone grew sharper. Emotionless. "Don't call me again."

A dial tone droned in my ear, and I nearly dropped the phone.

 _What the hell is going on?_

I tried calling again, ignoring Duncan's eyes burning into the side of my skull.

 _Is she pissed at me? Is it something to do with last night? Why does she sound so different? She never smokes- she despises smokers._

But her voice came through the speakers once more, " _Hey it's Dea, leave a voicemail. If this is Danny- fuck off."_

My breathing grew shallow, and I tried one last time. I got the same result. There was a loud ringing that echoed in my ears, and a painful hammering in my chest.

"Everythin' alright?"

Not able to speak, I averted my eyes and offered him back the phone. A small moment later, the weight vanished from my hand.

"Hey, I uh…" I heard his feet shuffle. "I don't know what's goin' on or whatever and I know you don't know me… but if you need anythin'... well, there's a chance I wouldn't entirely say no."

His words blurred my vision and my throat tightened to the point I knew if I spoke, words would be inaudible. When he took that as a sign to leave, he made it four steps before I managed to force myself to speak. "I need to find the police station."

There was a short pause, and a restless bark from Bongo.

"I'll lead the way."

* * *

I carefully stepped through the door and gnawed on the inside of my cheek, my eyes drifted around the office.

There was a whirring, which I realised came from the fan on the receptionists desk, a decorative pink paper chain attached to it wriggled from the light breeze. In the background I could see people dealing with paperwork in several cubicles, a couple of distressed civilians talking to investigative officers who were taking notes. There were a few people on the phone, and ringing in the background.

A glance or two flickered toward me, and I felt my back tense. I deeply inhaled, ignoring the sterile taste to the air.

 _Keep it together. They're here to help you._

I moved my feet, approaching the main desk at the front.

The lone receptionist looked up at me, an open book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. His uniform, although worn, was clearly well taken care of, though the edges of his badge had started to flake.

"Yes, how may I help you?" He droned absentmindedly, folding a page and almost reluctantly putting the book down.

I didn't know what to say or even how to say what I needed. Despite the fact I had been revising what to say and how to say it, my mind went blank. None the less, I tried to form a sentence. "I…" I weakly croaked, and took an uncertain step forward to grab the edge of the desk, feeling the tremble begin to loosen the strength in my legs. "Hi. I'm..." a lump formed in my throat. _Not supposed to be here. Trespassing illegally._ "...lost."

"Name and place of residence?"

Spots fizzed in my eyes and I remembered that breathing was a basic but much vital human function. "Avis Clarke." I swallowed as he turned to the monitor beside him and began typing. I listened to the mechanical keyboard clicking and clacking before speaking again, "I don't… well," I let out a timid chuckle, my voice lowering, "I-I, uh... I don't live anywhere."

"Any kin or relatives that I can contact for you?"

 ** _Don't call me again._**

I didn't know what I did, but she seemed adamant for me to leave her alone.

I tried not to choke. "No, not really."

He frowned at my admission before his attention turned back to the monitor. A crease formed on his forehead, the officer turning to take another look at me and back to the screen.

"Avis Clarke, you say?"

My stomach writhed and I slowly nodded. Was this it? Was he going to arrest and have me deported being an illegal immigrant?

"Avis Ella Clarke?"

Slightly taken aback, I blinked and met his unfathomable gaze, trying to make sense of his expression. "I- yes? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," he dismissed quickly, picking up a phone. "Excuse me for a minute, I need to check something. Please, have a seat while you wait."

I just decided to park my butt on the uncomfortable waiting chairs, avoiding the outright curious stare from the dark skinned child playing with a green truck on the floor. The woman next to me muttered something in another language that suspiciously sounded like Spanish, and the boy looked up curiously. They had a short conversation that caused the woman to laugh midway but I eventually blanked them out.

My hands were clammy, and a distracting thudding pain was in my temples. Whilst waiting I picked at my nails, doing my best to scrap the remaining paint away. It wasn't the most ideal entertainment but it gave me something to do so my mind didn't take a leap into panic central.

 _Calm down, Avis. Just explain to them about your condition. You can't get into trouble for something you can't control._

"Miss Clarke?"

I looked up, and stilled.

Unbeknownst to the short haired blonde walking closer to me, despite her reassuring yet strained smile, the train to panic central arrived at high speed- hell, it slammed into me like a sack of anchors. To anyone else, she seemed like any other officer. Normal. Uniform clad with cropped golden hair and brown eyes.

But to me, she appeared as an actress that played the infamous Liz Forbes.

A dubious squeak escaped me, and by the black spots floating in my vision it became apparent I forgot to breathe.

"Are you well, Miss Clarke? You look… ill."

My gut stirred, throat burning when I forced the bile back down.

 _No._

No, I wasn't well.

This was too surreal. Suddenly I'm in America, in Virginia. Suddenly, I'm in the set for Vampire Diaries. Suddenly, I _meet_ someone from Vampire Diaries.

 _Am I dreaming?_

"Partially." I managed to force through gritted teeth, sharply inhaling.

I wasn't squeamish. My friend was studying to be a doctor and I spent a lot of nights staying up with her in a study group, gorey videos on in the background. Not to mention all those horror games and horror movies. Our pal Alex was the one with the weak stomach, and I always teased him. He said my gut was made of steel.

But, this situation was becoming abundantly, overwhelmingly more insane. Too much for my mind to handle.

My hand flew to my dry mouth when the sickness at me swung full force. Everyone looked alarmed at the sight of me folding over toward the floor. Marguerite MacIntyre (the woman who played Liz) called for someone over her shoulder, "Patrick, get a bag!"

There was a disgusted noise from the woman near me, and gagging from the child.

Fingers brushed by my skin and my long hair was drawn back as I emptied the remainder of any food from my body. A hand clamped down on my shoulder, standing me up. Even when they helped me walk, the movement felt stiff and awkward, like I was using stilts. I felt the person guiding me forward, swiftly grabbing my forearm when I almost toppled over.

The door they lead me to opened, the woman I couldn't look at without hyperventilating lead me through. Distantly, I felt a solid surface underneath me and slowly registered that she sat me down in front of a pristine table, notepad with a pen on it in front of one chair.

Distracting myself, I forced my gaze to gingerly trail the room. It was square shaped and wasn't that big, with a mirror covering half of one wall. After keenly observing the pane, I wondered if it was really two-way glass, like in the movies where they could see me but all I could see was my own, pale reflection. I stretched my arms across, hugging my chest. I created friction over my bare skin, rubbing my hands together. An ache crawled over my skull. For a while, all I could hear in the room were my gradual, dragging breaths. I could feel her dark eyes staring across the table before she opened her mouth.

"Are you feeling any better?" The query came from the doppelganger of Marguerite, who still held a professional tone. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern when I failed to answer, still in a startled state of shock.

She lightly nudged the glass of water she brought in, pushing it across the table. Shakily sighing, I reached forward and picked it up to have a few sips. My throat was scratchy and had the revolting aftertaste of vomit.

"I'm Sheriff Forbes," I didn't dare look up at her in fear of choking on my tongue. Though I didn't answer her, she moved onto the line of questions I didn't know she was going to ask. "Miss Clarke, I'm going to ask you some questions. Is that alright?"

I was vaguely aware my head moved, gingerly nodding. A stab of nausea deeply coiled in my gut, like barbed wire cutting my insides. I wanted to puke again.

Sheriff Forbes, she introduced herself as. Not Marguerite MacIntyre. This had to be some kind of sick joke, or I was having a nightmare. That wouldn't explain how vivid everything felt. It was surreal, being able to smell and touch and taste and see everything so crystal clearly. It was impossible-

Yet, I was here.

 _But this is real. How is this real? Am I dreaming_? _This has to be a dream_. I thought to myself, staring at the table in a trance. I could feel the air surrounding me. I could feel four fingers and a thumb on each hand. I felt pain clench in my body when I projectiled the remainder of cereal from my stomach. I felt the salty tears stream down my cheeks in response to it, gagging as more bile clawed up my throat.

 _This is real._

I was really in America. I was really in Virginia. Inexplicably, irrationally, in Mystic Falls.

 _But that can't be the real Liz Forbes._ Logic fiercely argued against the small part of me that actually, crazily, believed it. I wondered briefly, if I had a screw loose. If my sleepwalking had messed with my brain so much that I developed an extreme schizophrenia, that I could no longer distinguish between what was real, and what was fantasy.

 _I'm not insane._

"Are you aware that you've been missing for three weeks?"

The air was knocked out of me. _Missing_. _Three weeks._ I tried to talk but I was in a suffocating bubble. Her words repeating in a reverberating circle. _Missing_. She stated. _Three weeks_. Despite my hazy memories, I knew I was with someone in my apartment, I talked to my mother on the phone the day before, listening to her rant about our snide neighbour. I hadn't been _missing_ at all, let alone _three bloody weeks!_

 _But then_ , my thoughts sourly interjected. _I wasn't anywhere near America either._

"Do you remember what happened to you?"

I felt a twinge in my chest and searched through my memory, finding nothing that would clear the foggy blanks. I remembered my apartment. I remembered a face. Then I woke up in an unfamiliar flat out of nowhere, what felt like a massive punch to my ribs interrupted my slumber.

When she tried to catch my gaze, I averted my gaze to her hands. She continued. Her voice was reassuringly quiet but firm, "Were you running away from anything?"

If only it were that simple.

"...Did someone take you?"

 _I genuinely want to know that as well, Miss Marguerite._

"Miss Clarke," she then added, "-or would you prefer Avis?"

 _What happens if I go along with it?_ If it was really a dream, like my denial seemed to yowl at me. _What would truly go wrong if I answer her_ _?_ A small voice in the back of my mind, the part that believed I was no longer in my reality, screamed it was a bad idea. That I should keep my answers as vague as possible and get out of dodge before I created a paradox and killed everything in existence.

Then half truths. My crazy side pushed. _This is Liz Forbes. If anything, she'll assume you're an attention seeking teenage girl, running away from an abusive home, that you're insane or that a vampire compelled you to forget three whole weeks._

As Alex would say; _wing it._

I adjusted my clammy hands and reluctantly, finally cleared my throat. "...A-Avis."

When my eyes locked onto hers, her face revealed nothing, but I swore I saw a glint of respite- probably at the fact I was finally showing progress after my episode of stunned silence.

"Avis," She clasped her fingers together, tilting forward slightly, her gaze on my unwavering and sympathetic. "I can't help your situation if you don't provide the necessary answers. Whatever… ordeal that you've experienced, I'm here trying to prevent it happening to other innocent people, especially girls your age. Please," faintly, I heard something akin to pleading in her tone, "help me to help you."

"I…" I inhaled. "I don't know."

I swore traces of alarm and something unfathomable flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly gone before I could confirm what it was. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"I mean," I meekly ducked my head, letting out a shuddering breath. "I don't remember."

Puzzlement flickered across her face for a fleeting nanosecond, replaced by a reticent mask, I could practically see the gears turn in her brain. She picked up the notepad and scribbled something.. "So what can you tell me? What was the last thing you can recall about the night you went missing?"

 _Does this mean she thinks I'm an amnesiac? Or that she believes I've been compelled? Either one works to get the pity vote._

"I was in my apartment." I explained, albeit uneasily. My haywire emotions was making this easier- and a little hard to talk. "And I was with someone. I don't really know, it's blurry." I pressed my hand to head, trying to push away the pain. "This morning I woke up in someone else's flat, no one was home, and I was confused. I was- am… I am lost. I didn't know where I was, so I just… went outside."

Her look urged me to continue.

"And I- well," my voice was bubbling with tears, even talking about it was stressing me about. "I didn't recognize anything. I knew there was something off, little details around me didn't add up… Long story short, I got help from someone who lead me to the station and- well," I meekly gestured to myself, pointing at my chest. "-voilà."

She stared at me for a long while, seemingly trying to discern how much of what I said was bullshit, given how ludicrous it sounded even to my ears. Or stuck trying to figure out what to do with me. "I see," she said. "This person you were with before your gap in memory, have you met him before?"

"I... don't know." Frustration grew larger as my answers became the same phrase. I had a feeling I would be repeating myself a lot. "I don't remember a lot."

Liz looked torn between looking somewhat frustrated and exasperated. _She can join the club._ "The place you woke up in, do you still remember where it is at least?"

I leaned back, fiddling with the hem of my sleeve. "A building of flats near a park, I can probably show you."

"That wouldn't be necessary," she took out her phone and briefly typed into it, before holding it up and showing it to me. "This place?"

It took me a few minutes to recognise it, but after scanning the street I nodded. "Yeah."

"Floor and unit number?"

"I didn't look at the door number, but it was the third floor." I watch as she wrote down something in her pad. "Sorry if that doesn't help."

"On the contrary, what you just told me may be much more useful than you think. I'll send some of my deputies to stake out the place and see if they can find anything. You can rest easy, Miss Clarke, you're in good hands now."

She was standing up, presumably to leave. I gripped the glass of water in my hands, bringing it toward me as another matter lit up in my head. _She wanted to be left alone, but what if it helps?_ "Officer Forbes?" The name felt weird to say so seriously. "Can you maybe do me a favour as well?" She curiously glanced over. "When I woke up, I tried to call my mum and she… she just rejected me." My eyes stung at the memory. "I don't know why. Maybe you can find out? Maybe talk to her?"

Something flickered across her eyes for a brief second, the sheriff stopping mid turn and facing me sideways. "I'll…" she looked back at me, her eyes not quite matching the tone she had tried to convey, "see what I can for you. Have a good day, Miss Clarke."

"Thank you." I quietly, and gratefully offered.

She shut the door, leaving me to the deafening silence in the small room.


	3. Chapter 3: The Longing

It'd been a few days since I woke up in that apartment, and it still felt like a dream.

At some point, Officer Forbes looked up the missing persons database and somehow came up with a match. Apparently, and mysteriously, I had a doppelganger in America, one who shared my name, face, blood type and everything, which added credulence to the ongoing theory that I was a victim of some human trafficking syndicate. Unfortunately, the fact that I had zero recollection of any of my supposed 'past life' had punched a few holes into that theory, and one of Liz's deputies had bluntly questioned if I was a lying runaway. If only.

Due to the fact they couldn't keep me, I was currently sitting in the waiting room of the police station on hard metal seating. There was no need for a suitcase. I didn't own any possessions except the clothes on my back. They took my cruddy samsung gifted by my cheap grandma, which was dead and had no credit, but they were looking through it to see if they could find anything useful.

I looked down at the dirt on my shoes and bounced my knee as I became lost in thought. My forehead wrinkled, chest tightening with frustration. No matter how hard I tried to remember, the details on how I ended up here came up blank. I knew who I was. I knew what I was doing the day before. I knew I didn't belong here. I clearly visualised my mother's face and the comical expression of a flat faced cat with one eye. Dobby. I slightly smiled at the thought of my fat persian cat, but it quickly faded.

If I could recall minor things like how the day before I came here I had a ketchup stain on my favourite shirt- why didn't I remember what happened to me?

Sunlight poured in through the large panes of glass. It was certainly an odd sight, considering how dull and chilly it was in my own country. We had our good days, but definitely not as bright and chipper as this, last I remembered it was snowing, and March.

Supposedly people would've found this sunny weather nice to be in, but for me… for me it was surreal.

It was unsettling.

When the door opened, I lifted my head and stilled my knee. My eyes met a woman with honey toned skin and big round white glasses parked on her nose, she smiled at me carefully as if nervous I'd run away and took a few steps toward me. I glanced at her short heels as they click clacked on the clean floor. Her knee length floral dress swayed.

"You must be Avis," her voice was a little husky, and definitely not unpleasant to listen to. It was also most definitely southern belle-ish. "I'm Soloan Altoer."

"Uh, hi." I didn't know what else to say to the woman. I'd never met a social worker before, or been to a foster care home.

"Are ya ready?" She asked, and I stood up.

"Miss Altoer?" the deputy who had otherwise been quiet and reading a book behind the front desk said, holding out a clipboard. "If you could just sign here please?"

"Of course," she adjusted the bag on her arm before taking the clipboard and pen from his hand. She scribbled her signature, read through a few lines before handing it back to him.

He inclined his head. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," she sweetly smiled, and looked to me expectantly. Her eyes flickered over to the seats I was waiting on before landing on me again. She held open the door, letting a light breeze in. "Are ya ready to go, sweetpea?"

"Yeah," I quietly followed behind her. At first glance, I thought she was young but when the natural light shined on her dark hair, it was evident by the gray slivers she had some years under her belt. Or at least some high stress.

She was walking toward a run down silver Fiat parked on the side. When she opened the door for me I sat down and clipped in my seatbelt, adjusting in the seat as I waited for her to get in the other side. It certainly smelt nicer than I expected. Probably due to the hanging pine freshener from the rear view mirror. I tapped it with my forefinger, then watched it waver and spin around.

The car door thudded closed when she entered.

She placed her leather handbag at the back, before turning the key until the car sputtered to life. Her mouth curved at me, and I leaned against the window.

We drove past some familiar locales, ones I recognised from the show and unfamiliar ones, parts of the town and neighbourhoods that were never explored in the show. Weird almost, seeing how peaceful everything was in a town that was otherwise the furthest from it. An ice cream truck parked outside a library, crowded with kids and preteens, someone sleeping on a park bench opposite the street with an eye mask on and an old woman feeding pigeons. Hard to imagine them as actual people, and not walking blood bags or compelled goons, considering how the show usually portrayed the townspeople, and everyone who wasn't part of the main cast really. Robotic automatons who served no other purpose other than just dolls to be used and discarded as the protagonists pleased.

I lifted my eyes toward Soloan when she spoke. "What's yer music taste, darlin'?"

"Uh," I scratched my arm. "Anything really,"

"Nothin' really kicks out at'cha?"

"Jazz," I murmured after a thought, resting my elbow on the window. "Blues. Rock. Those are my favourites."

"If you look in the drawer you'll find a whole bunch of ol' cds. Pop one in. Your choice."

I lifted the handle, letting it fall onto my lap. About five different cd cases tumbled out, ten others were stacked in a small pile next to other objects like makeup bits and bobs and a hairbrush. I flipped through them, finding Peggy Lee, The Doors, Doris Day, Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller and more.

I decided with Glenn Miller and skipped a track until it was _In The Mood._

"Girl after my own heart, there." She smiled, her hand tapping on the steering wheel along to the rhythm.

The rest of the ride consisted of music and a chat here and there.

When we arrived, she lead me up the porch of a two story house that looked like it had seen better days. The walls were a little yellow, and one of the windows that seemed to reveal the kitchen was broken. When she put her key in the door, it took a few times to get it open, which told me the lock was old and a little rusted. I briefly wondered how old the place was.

The second I walked in, I was bombarded by children of various ages with questions, about my accent, my background, why I was here, etc. Soloan managed to pull me away from the prying eyes and rain of voices up toward the creaky wooden stairs. She went to the second room on the right, holding the door open for me.

"I'll leave you to it, if you need me I'll be downstairs in the kitchen," she had told me with a reassuring pat on my arm, and so I closed the door. I leaned against the frame, letting out a breath that had been building up and repressing the sting in my eyes. Her footsteps had faded, and I was left alone staring at the place that I would probably be spending quite a bit of time in.

The room was simple if a little small. There was one bed pressed on either side of the room, meaning I probably had a roommate. White linen curtains framed the singular big awning window and the floor was covered by a beige carpet.

About an hour later there was a few soft knocks on the door.

When I opened it, an young Asian girl with a shaggy haircut stood there. She looked at least fourteen. The most prominent part of her was the bright rainbow socks pulled up to her knees and the cat ear hairband. I looked at her, slightly taken aback. She was gazing at me with equal curiosity. "Are you my new roomie?"

"I guess so." I shrugged, and she suddenly shoved her hand in my face. I jolted and stared at it.

Her eyes rolled. "It's not gonna burn you or anything."

"Sorry," I mumbled and grasped her hand. My eyes catched a glimpse of a mark shy underneath her sleeve. She seemed to notice and uncomfortably pulled her sleeve down further with a frown. I averted my gaze.

"Soloan told me to introduce myself." She explained her presence here and I released her hand. "I'm Vivian Chen." There was a twitch on her lips, and the more she talked I noticed a slight lisp, along with the blue braces on her teeth. "But I swear to God, if you call me anything other than Vee or Vivi, I will literally put earthworms into your bed every morning."

"Good to know."

She nodded, and there was an understanding. I stepped aside as she wandered in and sat down on her bed. "What's your name?"

"Avis." I kept it short and sweet, still feeling the effects of everything. There was a faint lump in my throat still. I coughed, as if it would get rid of the feeling.

I shifted when Vee gave me a look of consideration, with eyes that held a wisdom that shouldn't belong to a fourteen year old. "It's not so bad here. Soloan is nice. She actually does try to help."

"I don't know if she can." Understatement. She definitely couldn't.

She pressed her lips together, eyes flickering down to her hands as they fiddled with the ends of her sleeves. She suddenly lifted her pillow, and I blinked in surprise at the book that was underneath it. Vee took it, then held it out to me.

Wordlessly, I gently pried it from her hands, sending her a confused glance.

"It's a romantic comedy." She bared her braces as she grinned. "Helped with my first week. Give it a shot."

We stopped talking. Vee grabbed a walkman from her bedside and left.

Vee seemed to be onto something, because for my first week here I shied in my room almost constantly, which didn't really give me much to do. I only came out to go to the bathroom occasionally, and Soloan brought my food upstairs. She told me she'd let me eat up here for the first week but she couldn't be unfair to the kids here, and that I was eventually have to join the dinner table. Much to my chagrin.

I wanted to go home, and when I realised that I couldn't, concluded that I probably would never go home again, I wanted a distraction so I didn't cry. My eyed had drifted to the book, and I cracked it open, reading the first line.

It was a few more days before I braved the dinner table.

It was a few more weeks before I braved not rushing back up to my room straight after.

Now I stood in the breezy kitchen with the broken window, it seemed I couldn't stop looking at the random calendar assigned in the corner of the room, left hanging from an unsteady nail. I was staring fixedly at the date, rubbing my thumb over the printed figures.

 _August, 20th, 2009._

At first I had thought the calendar had to have been an abundant fake, or an old one that was just left collecting dust on the worn wallpaper walls. But everything I checked, the news papers, online on Soloan's windows xp slow computer, other kids… it all came to the same date. I desperately wished that it was all a sick joke, and promised that I would never ironically say 'I hate my life' ever again.

 _What was the date before I woke up here?_ My gut churned. _March something,_ I recalled. _To be specific, it was 2018._

"Don't worry. You won't be here long." A young voice spoke from behind me and I turned my head, realising it was a young boy, maybe thirteen. Dark hair and ink matched eyes. I recognised him. He was one of the first to greet me when I got here. Noah was a amputee, scars running down the side of his face. I tried not to wince. "You look too old to be adopted, and you'll be released when you're too old to live here."

The gloomy kid was right, of course. My time here was limited. I was seventeen. Unless Officer Forbes found my 'other' family I apparently had in this other life, until I miraculously figured out a way back home, I would have to get a job. I had retail experience, but no references, due to the whole - _from a different dimension_ \- thing. I doubt mobiles reached through the trans dimensional tether.

"Noah, go read one of your depressing comics," Vee spoke up from the side, sending the kid a glare. He pouted but wandered out the room. "Ignore him, Noah targets fresh meat for his entertainment and you've just surfaced out of the abyss. He's a weird kid." Her dark brown eyes flickered up to what I was staring at. "You don't need to worry about your time, Soloan helps kids before they leave, helps them get on their feet. They don't just throw you out instantly when your biological clock hits eighteen."

That at least sent a wave of relief through me. One less thing to worry about.

My mind flashed with the image of Liz Forbes. Or maybe not.

Was she really there? Was it a coincidence? It had to be, right? It couldn't have been real. I had to have been having a nervous breakdown because I was terrified of admitting I was an illegal immigrant. Perhaps my brain played tricks on me that day.

 _But why is it suddenly 2009?_

Vee snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Earth to Ave?"

I blinked. "Ave?"

"Yeah, like, a nickname." She shrugged, but looked a little sheepish. "Sorry, do you hate it?"

"No," I answered after a moment, feeling a little warm squeeze in my chest. Her age was supposedly supposed to make her into this naive bratty girl who thought she knew the answers in the universe, but Vee was a nice person with a good head on her shoulders. "I like it."

Her face tinged pink, but a brightness glinted in her eyes. "I'm glad."

"Better than Queenie." I said wryly. She snorted an unladylike snort. One of the older kids, around more my age, John, tried to imitate my accent and nicknamed me Queenie of all things.

"At least he didn't call you a limey."

"True."

My eyes went back to the date. What was I even doing in 2009? I thought for a moment, doing the maths. _I was thirteen. A loner In school. My aunt dyed my hair to a dark brown._ It seemed like a simple time compared to now.

"Soloan is making pasta tonight." Vee said.

"Mm." I made a quiet noise of acknowledgement, to let her know I wasn't ignoring her.

"Something with pesto, and hotdogs." I heard her say, and looked over at her. She was picking at a loose thread, eyes fixed on her sleeve. Her marks flickered through my mind. "Do you like pasta?"

"That combination is actually one of my favorite dishes."

She perked up a little, and was about to speak when a deeper voice cut her off.

"What are y'all troublemakers doin' in my kitchen?" Soloan was leaning on the doorframe, and despite the lightly chastising tone, there was a warm smile on her face. "Not stealin' my chocolate cake I hope." Soloan pointed at the fridge, walking a few steps in. "Because that is for after dinner."

I tried to look as innocent as possible even though I didn't do anything wrong. Vee was shameless and poked her hip to the side, placing a hand on it. "We were just talking."

Soloan adjusted her glasses, a small smirk twitching on the corner of her mouth. "Mmm hmm."

"I swear I didn't steal any cake." I offered, trying not to smile. "I'm allergic to sweetness. And lactose intolerant and-"

"I get it, I get it." She swatted her hand dismissively and inclined her head toward the door. "Vee, can I have a word with Avis for a minute, honey pie?"

Anxiety flipped my stomach upside down. Vee sent me a slightly wary glance but nodded and headed out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. I leaned against the counter and fidgeted.

"Don't eye me like I'm gonna kick your ass onto the street, girly. Don't worry, ain't nothing so worry some." She seemed reassuring, and I relaxed a little, but still felt nervous. "I just wanted to let you know that I signed you up for school."

Fear pierced through my heart like a bullet, and I froze.

"Now don't go all panicky," She held up her hand when she saw the look on my face. "You've been comfortable for a month, with still no word from that nice officer about your old life. I made an arrangement of sorts. You don't have to go until two weeks from now but you're still required to go. It's illegal otherwise."

"You want me to go to high school?" I murmured and pinched the bridge of my nose. _This is the last thing I need._

"I think it'd be good for you," Soloan said. "And again, it's a slow process, so you won't have to feel like you're taking on too much all at once. I informed the principal that you're a special case, and arranged it so you can go less than other students..." she gave me a pointed look. "But you still have to go."

"I don't think I'm ready." I breathed. My chest tightened.

High school. A foreign concept. Literally. It was a culture shock from my old life, too big a change besides the whole I _sort of have amnesia and now I'm in another country_ thing. I was in college before this, working on my small art diploma.

I knew Soloan was just trying to look out for me in the long run, but it didn't stop the thundering terror building up in my throat.

"You can't sit around and do nothing, your brain will turn to mush. Your education is important, especially since you're nearly an adult and won't technically fall under my care when you hit the big number. It could help with internships, get you grounded on your feet." I gripped the kitchen counter with vice, and she seemed to finally catch on to my rising panic, her hand gently found my arm. Her voice became softer. "If it gets too stressful for you, then we'll just take it one day out of the week at a time, do some home tutoring to make it easier."

"I've-" I stammered, and took a deep inhale. "But high school? I'm a little…"

"Overwhelmed?" Her brows knit together. I nodded. "I'll help you with your school work, but I think instead of sitting upstairs in your room most of the day is unhealthy and not going to help your…" she paused, I assumed to think carefully about her words. "Condition."

"You mean the… crazy, thing."

Her hard eyes burned holes into my skull. "You're not crazy, Avis."

My throat hitched, and that familiar sting was in my eyes. But I shakily breathed in and nodded. It was easier to agree with her outwardly than it was to argue and let her know that actually, I was in fact, fully off my bleeding rocket.

My stay here within the month was almost therapeutic. Vee was wiser than she looked, which helped to talk about things. Soloan was lovely, if a little overprotective…. But the homesickness was hard to shake off. My head still had a hard time wrapping around the what, how and why but never stopped to consider all of those questions, because I felt like I would actually drive myself into an asylum. But it was _so hard to believe._

One minute I was in England in my classroom complaining from art block- the next I found myself wondering Covington as a missing person. Specifically in Mystic Falls.

I was honestly surprised I hadn't had a nervous breakdown at this point.

"Avis," Soloan put a comforting arm around my shoulder, bringing me into a hug. "It'll be okay, baby girl." My eyes stung again. "Even when you turn eighteen, I'll still help you."

My hands drifted around her back, hesitant to return the hug at first, then almost clinging to her. The homely and warm gesture reminded me of the good days with my mum. A whiff of dark plum and honey entered my nose.

She rubbed my back, then let go. "Right, go upstairs. Wash your face. Get ready for dinner."

"Yes m'am," I said quietly.


	4. Chapter 4: The First Day

"What about this?"

I appraised the pencil case that Vee wiggled in her hands. It was a blue, fuzzy cylinder case with a zip on the side. Googly eyes glued on the front. She held another one identical to it in her other hand, save for the colour which was green.

"The green one." I held up the plastic white basket, she plopped it in and loosely chucked the blue one back to its original place. I gave the nearby store clerk a sheepish glance as he gave us both a dirty look in return. Vee didn't seem to notice- or care.

It had been a full week of pacing in my room, stuck in my own restless bubble of trepidation. In a way, this gave me something to focus on other than my currently questionable sanity. The whole adjustment was more than a little disconcerting and reality warping.

Soloan had booked several appointments for me. I'd been to a few since my time in the US. The doctors told me it was possibly retrograde amnesia, and I failed to mention the part where I possibly hallucinated a TV show character- that being Liz Forbes. It just felt like too much, and I was surprised I was holding it as together as I was.

I wished it would leave my mind. That I would stop self doubting and just accept that I'd been through some awful traumatising shit that somehow caused memory loss and move on but...

Truth be told, it was the only thing I could think about- I obsessed over it. I couldn't move on because nothing about my circumstances made any lick of sense. The more I tried to understand it, the worse my headache.

At least this whole high school preparation and anxiety gave me something else to worry about.

Soloan had sensed something was wrong, other than the obvious. She didn't press me, simply said something about supplying myself for school and practically hauled me out of the house. Something about fresh air is the cure to the unquiet mind.

Vee volunteered to come with me. Thus, we were walking around the town, in and out of shops to find things that we'd need.

"What grade am I going to be in?" I was wrapping my head around the differences. At home I wouldn't be in school, but college. College here for them was university, as far as my small understanding went.

"Twelfth." Vee answered helpfully. "I'm in ninth."

I picked up a novelty pen. On the tip was a panda's head with boxing gloves attached just underneath, buttons on the side to press the panda into action and punch the air. I moved it near Vee's face with a cheeky smile and she gave me an unimpressed stare.

"It's cute." I defended, putting it in the basket.

"That," she made a show of pointing down at it, "is impractical."

"You're fourteen, you shouldn't care." I shrugged off her disbelief. It was obvious that despite our age differences, she tried to act the mature one.

"Do you want to be bullied?" She asked. I wore an amused smile at first, but was disheartened a little by her words. I hadn't even taken that into account. Am I going to fit in? ...do I even want to? Vee seemed to sense my change in mood and looked worried. "What's wrong?"

"I just…" I absentmindedly picked up a notepad, flipping through it and not really paying attention to the action. I didn't know how to explain myself, my situation, and I was dying to speak about it. But I couldn't.

"Avis?"

I frowned, realising I'd been staring down at the blank page whilst trying to find a way to answer her. I closed it, put it in the basket and sighed. "I wake up, and expect to find myself in my own bed, back… home, home. y'know?"

"Well, dude. You lost your memory, that isn't exactly a thing you can move on from."

I swallowed.

It wasn't the only thing I lost.

I murmured. "Is it okay if we drop it?"

She didn't say anything more on the topic, instead dragging me toward the check out point.

"That's four dollars." The dark haired man at the counter said with a monotone. I glanced over him briefly, noting the tired bags under his eyes, to the name tag on the breast of his yellow shirt. George.

I passed him the money and we left.

"What next?"

I bit my lip, glancing at the remaining money in my wallet. I zipped it back up and shoved it into my jean pocket. A firm respect and affection warmed me, remembering that Soloan had left a little bit extra, and also told me to grab some clothes. I'd been using some old hand me downs that previous foster kids left before they got adopted or moved on with their lives. I didn't know how I'd repay her back.

I pointed to a nearby clothing store. Vee shrugged, and linked her arm with me. The contact rustled the plastic bag hanging off my elbow.

* * *

I stared at the calendar.

Lifting my hand, I crossed off the last day. In a few hours, I'd be going to high school.

Vee was downstairs having breakfast, along with Kyle. A recent stray Soloan's bleeding heart took in yesterday. He was around fifteen, and he hadn't spoken a word even when everyone greeted him. I wondered if he'd stay in his room for a while, just like me.

I showered, and after ward grabbed a brush and ran it through my hair. I didn't style it. I just let it dry by itself as I scanned my limited amount of clothes I laid on my bed. I had the choice of worn down jeans and my old t-shirt. Or the outfit I bought the other day; a cute lavender skirt with a plum coloured tank top. I opted for the latter along with my own pair of roughed up vans.

My fingers hesitated over the laces, and I shakily exhaled. My brother gifted me these, on my fifteenth birthday.

"Fuck," I murmured.

My eyes stung, that familiar tightening happened in my throat. Stop. I forced myself to think about something else.

Thankfully there was a knock. I cleared my throat, "come in."

Vee walked in with a notepad. It was enough to distract me.

She sat down on her bed, facing me. I glanced over her paper curiously. One of my weird talents was reading upside down fairly easily, and I realised it was a checklist.

"Soloan made pancakes, you're missing out." She pointed out, then tapped her nail on the paper. "I told her I'd help you get ready."

"So you wrote a check list."

"Yup!" She said, popping the 'p' cheerfully. Vee smiled at me, blissfully unaware of my previous dark-cloud-over-head mood. "Let's begin, do you have your headphones?"

"I don't own headphones." I said, tone a little flatter than I meant. I immediately felt bad at the discouraged look on her face and tried to sound more enthusiastic about the idea. "Thanks though, keep going."

"Let me just cross that off…" She mumbled. There was a scratching on the paper as she scribbled out that option. "Okay, pencil case and everything in it."

I leaned to the side, pulling out the drawer to the bedside table. My case wriggled with the movement and I picked it up, ripping off the tag and chucking it aside. I peered inside, before zipping it back up. "Check."

"Cute clothes." Her eyes flickered over my outfit, and she sent me a sweet smile. "Check."

I chuckled, suddenly grateful to have Vee as my roomie.

"Bra."

I shot her a look. She gave me an innocent shrug. "It could happen. I had an older sister that did it once."

I squashed down the instant curiosity and suppressed the urge to ask. Instead I simply slinked my hand through the collar of my shirt, feeling on my shoulder for the familiar strap. Confirmed that I was indeed wearing my bra, I nodded and said, "check."

"You don't have a phone, so…" she scribbled on her checklist, after peering over her shoulder I saw that she'd crossed it off entirely. "Okay, that leaves… Notepad."

"Check."

"You didn't even look."

I held open my bag pointedly. She leaned forward, peering inside. Wordlessly, she put a tick next to it before setting her own notepad aside.

"You nervous?" She inquired.

"Think Soloan would be mad if I pretend my amnesia is worse today?" I put a dramatic hand to my mouth, injecting an obvious sarcastic tone to my voice. "Oh jinkies, suddenly I don't know who you are."

Her mischievous smirk almost made me believe she was going to go along with it, but then she softly exhaled and shook her head. She gave me a sympathetic smile. "You'll be fine."

"What if they do bully me?" I asked, trying to put a light hearted smile on my face and failing. "What if they don't like the new cool Brit in town?"

"They're a bunch of bratty teens." She swatted her hand dismissively. "They don't deserve to be your friend, then." Vee grinned. It was a shit eating grin. "Besides, even if they don't like you, I'll beat 'em up."

"You're a tough kid," I admitted, my smile becoming genuine. "But I don't think you'd be able to take on people a lot bigger and meaner than you."

"Soloan takes me to a jiu jitsu club on Saturdays, I'm probably a lot more able than most of them." She seemed smug and my eyebrows shot up in surprise.

It was hard to imagine this small girl being able to chuck me into next Tuesday. I was almost tempted to ask her if she could, just so I could skip today. However, I didn't feel like the black eye would be worth it.

"Come on, if you don't get downstairs soon, Noah is gonna horde all the pancakes." She inclined her head, and we both headed to the kitchen.

The stairs creaked loudly, and as we came into the living room I noticed with surprise that Kyle was already out of his room. His head was ducked in a book, and Vee wandered over toward him. She sat next to him on the couch, doing most of the conversation for them. I felt a twitch on my lips at them.

I noticed Noah sitting on the floor, watching something on the old ass TV. I recognised the animated movie; Peter Pan. I stared at it, a faint smile on my lips. When all the children were travelling to _Neverland_ I heard Soloan call me.

I glanced over the sofa, looking to the kitchen. It was a connected room with no door, so I could see her hovering around the stove. She effortlessly flipped the pancake. It was an impressive sight. "Honeypie, you woke a bit late. You gotta stuff your face in the car, alright?"

Her hair was in multiple braids, peeking out from underneath a floral green and pink durag. Soloan was wearing navy jeans and a viridian blouse.

"I can eat very fast." I assured her, and took a seat at the dining table. It was placed in the living room because the kitchen was just a small one.

"Good," she said, then placed the pan down and opened a cabinet. "Do you want maple syrup?"

"Yes please." I watched as she took out a plastic tub, put the rest of the pancakes inside and then doused it with maple syrup then closed the lid. She brought it over to me, placing a fork on top of the enclosed tub.

"Alrighty let's go gang," she clapped her hands to gain Vee and Kyle's attention. I lifted open the tub, slicing a corner off the pancakes so I could shove it into my mouth. Noah's head turned from the screen. "Gotta go."

We all quickly piled through the door. I had to squint through the bright sunlight, and thank the lord I wore a skirt.

As soon as I was in the front seat and everyone was buckled in, I was already on my second pancake, scarfing them down. Soloan started the car.

* * *

"Welcome to Mystic Falls High School, Miss Clarke."

The civil tone did nothing to stop the absolute dread I felt the moment I stood in the office.

The principal seemed oblivious to my apprehension. I stiffly gave him a small once over. The man had a receding hairline with a shiny forehead, the remainder of his hair was grey. His eyes were green and he was in a black suit.

Never trust a man in a suit, I recalled my mother saying once. So far I had followed that advice and so far I'd avoided trouble with them. His attire certainly didn't rest the haywire nerves inside of me.

"Thank you." I strained the corners of my mouth upward, trying to be polite. I could still taste the syrup around my lips and subtly licked them.

I eyed the nameplate on his desk, briefly wondering why he had it since his name was painted over the glass on his door.

"I'm sure you'll find your stay here a pleasant one." He easily smiled. It seemed like the type of smile you'd practice in a mirror. Unease stirred my stomach. "When you leave the office, make sure to go to reception next door. Miss Shelby will help you will your papers, your schedules, and if you have any questions she'll be more than happy to answer them. That applies throughout the school year."

He was quiet for a moment, and I didn't like the analytical gaze.

His tone became softer, a little guarded. "And if you feel ill or feel like you need some air, just ask. Miss Altoer has enlightened me to your circumstances and I've informed your teachers and the nurse of your… incident."

Incident.

Like it was an inconvenience instead of reality changing. Like it was a minor little thing that happened around me instead of a surreal transition that happened to me.

My fingers twitched over my lap, and I clenched my jaw, trying to smile over my annoyance. His expression didn't change, and I hoped I wasn't being as see through as I felt. "Thank you, Mr. Weber."

He nodded. He moved his arm and glanced at his watch. "I've also assigned you a welcome guide. Someone you can go to if you get lost or if you need someone to talk to other than the nurse. She'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Sorry, keeping an eye on me?" I didn't like where this was going.

"If I may speak bluntly?" He waited for my response and I just gave him a patient, expectant look. "You have retrograde amnesia. That is not something I'm going to treat lightly and we're going to keep an eye on it. If you need to go to the nurse, even if it's a false alarm like say- a headache, your assigned guide will escort you immediately for a check up just to make sure everything is fine and dandy."

I sighed irately, unable to help it. "So, a babysitter?"

"Essentially." He gave another practised smile. "It's just a precaution. The safety and well being of our students is an utmost priority."

Before I could protest, conjure an argument, appeal to his logical side- there was a knock on the door. An oddly precise pattern.

"Come in." Weber called. The door opened.

I had a heart attack.

An attractive girl with long legs walked in, some expensive looking pink handbag hanging off the crook of her elbow. Her luscious blonde curls bounced healthily with every step. She wore a zaffre shirt that complimented her fair skin and went nicely with her eyes. As soon as her cobalt gaze locked with mine, I nearly fell off my chair.

"This is Caroline Forbes. Caroline, this is Avis. You'll be spending a lot of time with each other."

Unbeknownst to Weber, I wasn't breathing.

Caroline's eyes trailed over me, and I didn't have to be a mind reader to know she was calculating who she was dealing with, thinking about what mask to put over her face and what card she had to pull in order to win me over. I caught the judging flicker across her face when she saw my worn vans, but it quickly faded.

"Hi," she bared her pearly whites at me into a charming smile that I was sure explained part of her popularity. It was full of enthusiasm. The type of smile I knew she was only wearing because we were in front of the principal.

The room span.

"Caroline…?" I wheezed in disbelief, not wanting to believe my eyes. _No. No, no, no, no, no._

"Miss Clarke?" Weber's concerned voice was distorted, muffled.

 _I can't breathe._

The world turned upside down, and the last thing I saw were Caroline's ankle boots.

Black faded into my vision.

* * *

Something wet, soft and cooling touched my forehead.

It hurt to open my eyes, and it was too bright. However, I eventually pried them open.

Vaguely I registered that I was laying down. Underneath me was a slightly uncomfortable bed with a metal frame. A shadowed figure was leaning over me and I blinked to adjust my vision, squinting at the stranger.

A plain face entered my gaze, concentration wrinkling his forehead. I blinked again rapidly when the same bright light was shined purposely into my eyes. He said something, but it felt like someone shoved cotton into my ears. A high pitched noise faintly screeched, but it quickly faded. His voice became clear.

"Do you know your name?"

"Avis." I answered, and grimaced at my slightly dry throat.

"Do you know where you are?"

"School?" My voice croaked. "Who're you?"

"I'm the school nurse, Carlos Mendoza." The cooling touch vanished, and I realised that was his hands. "Do you know what happened?"

My mind was blank. It took me a few moments to acknowledge his question.

"No."

"You blacked out in the principal's office," he stated bluntly. I turned my head slightly as he shined the light in my other eye. I grimaced. "Sorry, you took a heavy fall to the head, I needed to check for concussion." I heard a light clink, the light turned off. "It was likely a combination of stress, anxiety, nervousness and considerable mental and emotional strain. Not that I can blame you of course, considering your circumstances."

"How long…" I tried to sit up, instantly I felt a little dizzy and paused.

"Here, take it slow." He helped me, and then handed me a plastic cup of fresh water. I sipped and felt the relief of cold water trickling down my throat. It made me feel a bit better. "You've been out for less than an hour."

I massaged a spot on my temple, and he immediately took notice. "Are you feeling any discomfort? Pain? Nausea?"

"I'm okay," I dismissively shook my head, and I took a moment. The room wasn't spinning anymore, but my body felt a little weak. My face flared sheepishly. _I fainted. Why the hell did I-_

I froze as a memory flickered to life like a flame.

Caroline.

 _Fucking._

 _ **Forbes.**_

"Fucking hell." I muttered, and the nurse's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. The temperature rose even more. "Sorry."

"Just this once, I'll refrain from telling Principal Weber about your interesting language." There was a spark of mirth in his eyes, but it was quickly gone, replaced by more serious tone. "Normally, I would suggest an ample amount of rest, take it easy for a day or two and do something relaxing to de-stress yourself. But in your case," he briefly glanced down at the files in his hand. "Well, I'm a nurse, not a neurologist."

"And I'm late for class." I glanced up at him, feeling the hint of a smile on my face. Despite the turmoil whirling out of control and the burning image of both Forbes in my head- I managed a joke, albeit a weak one. "I won't get detention on my first day, right?"

"You wouldn't," he said, turning back to his table and scribbling something onto a note. "But just in case your teacher may have missed the memo…" he handed me the note. "

"Thank you," I submissively took the note, about to put it in my jacket. I realised I wasn't wearing it. I looked around, noticing that it was folded on his desk. I felt tired all of a sudden.

"Usually people in your position would be more than happy to take the free excuse to get out of class and go home," he joked. "You sure you don't want that? It wouldn't be much of a trouble, and I'm sure Principal Weber will be more than accommodating to your request if you wish it."

I thought about it.

On one hand it would mean I could skip a day of school. I wouldn't have to do introductions today. I wouldn't have to deal with all the pitiful glances and making new friends to feel less lonely. I could stay home, snug the blankets and go to sleep. Soloan would be understanding.

If I stayed I wouldn't have to play catch up. I could deal with these people now and get it out of the way but there was also-

 _Caroline_.

I didn't want to be around Caroline, at least not today. I wasn't ready. The thought made me feel ill. Her presence pretty much confirmed that I was either crazy or that I wasn't and that I was really... _in Mystic Falls_.

I didn't know which was more terrifying.

I didn't have enough energy to deal with this. I didn't want to think about it.

"Can I go home today?" I found myself asking.

"I'll permit it this one time," he said. "Do try not to make it into a habit, or the next letter I'll be writing for you is a recommendation of suspension to the principal."

"Yes, sir." I gave him a meek salute.

He passed me my jacket, and I shrugged it on. I kept the note, to give in as evidence that I was excused, and then I left the room.


	5. Chapter 5: The Comet

_**Hey, thank you very much for your reviews, it helps motivate me to write and update! Every time I see a new one I get excited and happy = D**_

 _ **Haven't been updating lately because there is just a lot going on right now but I managed to find some time.**_

 _ **Onwards-**_

I sharply sighed.

" _Bloody hell,_ "

I put the newspaper down on the table with shaky hands, gnawing on the inside of my cheek to the point I swore I tasted blood.

Animal attacks. There were animal attacks in Mystic Falls. A couple that were mauled to death in the woods. All evidence according to the police force lead to believe it was a pack of rabid wolves, another story strung was a vague freak accident. I knew the truth though. It was all a cover up.

I thought back to yesterday. The moment I saw Caroline Forbes. I was terrified, but I think it was then I somewhat accepted I was stuck in this reality, or that I was plain crazy. I stopped trying to fight my theories, and relented when I realised fixating on the why and how wouldn't make me feel any better or help me- it set off thoughts like falling dominoes, one revelation after the other.

One truth didn't stop rattling around in my skull.

 _Vampires are real_.

My lungs were squeezing, my head spinning. I found that I repeated the same verse over and over and over like a sacred chant, as if it would make me see sense, as if it would force it to sink into my brain.

 _Vampires are real, vampires are real, vampires are real, vampires are real, vampires are real, vampiresarerealvampiresarereal-_

"What'cha doing?"

The chirpy voice snapped me out of my trance. Vee was leaning over the table with her inquisitive eyes on the newspaper and her head was tilted. I blinked, and I lied through my teeth. "Crossword."

She peered at me with a raised eyebrow. "It's blank."

"I'm really bad at crosswords." I casually shrugged, trying not to allude to my inward turmoil. Vee bobbed her head boredly, and I was grateful that she couldn't hear the rapid pitter-pat of my heart.

"Here," she dragged the newspaper across the table toward her and sat down. "I'm great at them." Her gaze suddenly found mine, glancing at the table before at me, at first flickering with confusion, then slight skepticism. I felt my fingers twitch nervously.

"What?" I tried to appear nonchalant, but knew I didn't look it.

"Where's your pen?" She gestured to the table. Which clearly had no pen.

 _Fuck_ , I cursed myself mentally. "Uh, well… I forgot it in our room."

She didn't say if she read through my weak lie, even though I had a feeling she did she didn't say anything in response. Vee lowered her head, then dug through her bag and pulled out a pencil.

"Odd."

"Huh?" My eyes flickered up to her face. "What is?"

"Three lettered word across." She wrote down the word onto the newspaper and I clasped my hands together, staring at it.

My heart raced even more when I thought about the animal attacks again, coming to a cold recollection. When I remembered just who would be in town, if the pattern of the show timeline aligned to the attacks was any indication.

 _Damon._

 _Heartless, thinks of humans as replaceable blood bags, only gives a shit about his own skin and sometimes his brother,_ _**season one**_ _Damon._ The one that, unless Elena was in the room, he would be tearing a chunk from your neck for looking at him wrong. One witty comment, or one slip of the tongue, and he'd rip it out. I loved him in the show, but for him to be real was horrifying.

The man was a monster.

That wasn't even the worst to come.

Damon, Katherine, witches, werewolves, the Original vampires (I shuddered at that thought), and that wasn't even the worst of it. _If I lived amongst the rest of the collateral damage_ _from town events_ _to see it._

It wasn't like I could just up and leave either. I was stuck here, broke, in a fucking foster home. I wouldn't be able to just run away. Even if I packed my small bag, I'd have nowhere to go. No cash to get a hotel. Not enough to buy a coffee, let alone food. Even if I did set out, there would _still_ be vampires out there. Hell, I was even more at risk if I was homeless. At least here, I had a roof, food, and someone that somewhat cared about my well being.

"Ave?"

It took me a minute to register her voice. It took me another to realise that my hands were trembling, and an extra five seconds to realise I wasn't breathing. I tried to steady myself, and put my hands underneath the table. I averted my gaze from Vee's burning stare. "I'm fine."

"You don't seem okay." She protested, obviously not wanting to drop it so quickly.

I gave her an exasperated look. I wasn't okay. There was no reality in which I would ever be okay with what was happening, but I imagined if I tried to explain what was going through my head, I'd be spending the rest of my days in an asylum. Whilst that would probably ironically be the safest area for me in this Godforsaken place- I didn't want to rot away in a straight jacket chugging pills.

"I don't want to talk about it." I settled for, knowing I wouldn't be able to lie. I hated the fact half the time I was an open book. Vee seemed to accept this with reluctance and went back to the crossword.

"Oh, Soloan is dragging us to the festival later." Vee mentioned offhandedly, probably to change the subject.

"Festival?" I asked, somewhat distractedly.

"The comet," she said, ticking off number twenty three before writing the answer in the boxes.

"Right." I said, leaning back into my chair. "Wasn't that just for highschool students?"

"Technically, yeah, but she thinks it's good _bonding_ for the uh," she used her fingers to represent air quotes. "' _Family_ '. I mean, like, I get it. A small celestial rock releasing a tail of gas is a pretty picture from here… but, like, I don't see how it would… make us _bond_ , you know?" She shrugged disinterestedly.

The comet festival. _Isn't that where Stefan and Elena went?_

My head started to throb as the details became blurred, and I stood from my chair, ignoring Vee's call after me as I rushed to the stairs. "Wait, _where are you going_?"

I skipped a few creaky steps, pushing the door to our room open to search for my notepad. If I was going to be here, _knowing_ _the future_ is a _huge_ advantage to avoid death. Especially where I was.

I folded over the book, snatching a pen from the bedside table, plopped myself down onto my bed, then started to messily scribble bullet points down. I settled for season one facts for now; _Animal attacks. Damon. Vicki. Comet festival. Tanner. Lexi. Alaric. Tomb opening. Fundraiser. John. Something to do with a vampire ear-bursting watch. Stefan blood relapse. Isobel._ There was more, but my brain strained with details. It'd been a while since I watched the show. It was hard to narrow down an exact timeline and specific details. I didn't remember all of it. It'd been so long since I watched the first season.

"What in the world are you doing?"

"Homework." I quietly mumbled.

"You look possessed."

"School is scary."

"Wait, you skipped the first day, you didn't get homework?"

She got me there. "Uh, the school passed it onto Soloan."

"Okay." She sounded hesitant, but left it alone. "I'll be downstairs, weirdo."

I didn't acknowledge her leaving, and kept writing as much as I could remember. I also added solutions in the margins. When I got to the third page I stared at the results and halfheartedly agreed that I probably did look possessed when I was scribbling all of this down.

 _Avoid Mystic Grill as much as possible._ Damon would be there quite a bit, he was a drinker. A lot of the main cast seemed to be drawn there as well.

 _The bonfire was yesterday, so Vicki is in hospital._ Avoid the Donovans. Matt seemed like a sweetheart, but he is inevitably dragged into the supernatural drama. It wasn't like there was a guarantee we'd even bump into each other anyway. Despite the fact it was a small town, he didn't seem in the mood for new friends in his post break up state. Vicki didn't seem the friendly type either, so that was no problem.

 _Tanner will die_ -

I pressed my lips together, faltering.

Tanner was going to die.

He was going to die.

A man _is actually going to die_.

 _ **Someone is going to be dead.**_

I gnawed the inside of my cheek, feeling my brow furrow. I felt my fingers coil tightly around my pencil. The words continuously echoed numbly in my skull, and I couldn't quite get them to leave. Damon was going to kill him, just to prove a point to Stefan that he was too far gone, that there was nothing to save.

Tanner seemed like a dick, on the show, he didn't seem like he cared for anything other than coaching and being a first grade A-hole to his students.

 _Don't get involved_. I tried to reason with myself.

People died every day. This would just be one of the usual casualties. I read about it in the paper. I saw that kind of thing on the news. Burning buildings. Bombings. People throwing acid in faces. Stabbings. Natural disasters. They were all very common and I was desensitised to hear about it.

But I have never known about someone's death _**before it happened.**_

 _Don't get involved_ -

Another thought popped up, _what if he wasn't there when Damon is?_

 _Don't get involved_.

My jaw stiffened, and I rubbed a frustrated hand over my face. I couldn't help my eyes from drifting back in the direction of Tanner's name. There it was. A dangerous, teetering curiosity nudging in the back of my mind.

 _What if I_ _ **can**_ _?_

I hadn't considered the possibility, and quite frankly, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

 _Is that… why I'm here_?

Was it self conceited, to ask that question? Egotistical, to assume that my life had this more purposeful goal than others?

 _But what if it_ _ **is**_ _?_

My eyes flickered to Tanner's name once more.

 _ **Don't. Get. Involved.**_

I regretfully ripped out the page, and forced myself to forget about Tanner.

* * *

"Sorry honey, we don't sell vervain anymore."

I gazed around the store. It was a small shop, with flowers spread around in vases, plastic coverings and cheap pots. My nose stung, and my eyes watered for the tenth time since I walked in, but I held it back and turned back to the clerk. When I first saw him, his appearance had taken me aback. He was a rather burly and bald man covered in tattoos, with big black gauges in his ears. The plaid reminded me of a lumberjack when he gave me a warm and friendly smile.

"That's too bad," I politely smiled, but in truth I was vexed. This was the last florist in town, as well as the sixth. I had spent hours scrying, asking for directions, checking the town map that I had stored in the bag I'd _borrowed_ from Soloan.

"Yeah, the town stopped growing them, and since there wasn't any demand we stopped selling." He gave me a close lipped smile in apology. "If I can interest you we have some lovely lantana instead? If you tell me who you're shopping for, maybe I can help?"

I shook my head, knowing the vampires that inhabited the town previously must have taken care of this. Vervain seemed hard to come by here. I briefly recalled a vague telling of how Damon burned most of the fields containing it, and compelled people not to grow it. _Maybe that extends to the florists_.

My eyes flickered between him and the flowers heedfully. He seemed normal enough… but how could one know if someone was compelled…?

"Thank you anyway," I forced a smile, then turned on my feet and walked out. The bell rang to announce my departure and I sighed when the door closed behind me.

My backup plan was the local library, which was a fifteen minute walk away. I groaned, wiping my damp forehead in irritation. It was a hot day, seemingly like every day here so far. It was tedious to walk around in all of it, and I felt groggy by the time I got there. The double doors slid open, and relief washed through me at the cooling AC that brushed my sweaty neck. I approached the desk. A middle aged woman with mousy brown hair looked up from the computer she was on and adjusted her glasses.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"I need to use the computer."

"Do you have a membership?" She starting typing on the keyboard, then clicked something with her mouse before patiently glancing at me.

"No," I admitted.

"To use the computers or take out any books you need a membership." She simply said. I read her name tag as Karen licked her thumb and sorted through the pile of paper next to her. "But you can easily set one up, all you need to do is fill this form-" I took the paper from her, staring jadedly. "-and I'll be happy to put you in our system."

I nodded slowly, holding in my frustration, and she held out a pen with a knowing smile.

"Thank you." I tried to be polite again, and she nodded her head before returning to whatever work she was doing.

I wandered to the closest table and almost slammed the paper down, raking my hand through my crazed copper-blonde curly hair. _Bloody forms_ , I felt disgruntled, and searched through the bag for the envelope with the house's address so I could copy it onto the form.

Browsing 2009 web was surreal when I was used to 2018. However, I went straight to ebay and started to make orders when I found myself successful in my search.

I made sure to order as much as I could, before staring at the checkout button.

 _Now the payment_.

 _Six dollars, and fifty three cents._

Before I could let myself feel too guilty, I shoved my cash that I found when I woke up in this mess, into Soloans purse, as I entered her card details into my new ebay account. Hopefully, she wouldn't notice too much. The money was still here, just… not in her _bank_.

It wasn't stealing, I assured myself. Just… _a swap_.

Right?

I swallowed, and confirmed the purchase.

* * *

"Who are you looking for?"

The green park was dimly lit by street lamps, students had their own little area with a few curious pedestrians sitting by the sides. The ambience of laughter and chatter put a strange vice around my heart. I was surrounded by people, but it didn't help the feeling of loneliness that lingered.

I dragged my eyes from the people shifting through the crowd. Vee sat down on the low stone bench with me. I crossed my legs, bringing my eyes back to the crowd. "Soloan. Is she and the others here yet?"

It wasn't exactly the truth. Vee and I came here together early, since Soloan had to pick up Noah from therapy, and Kyle went with her. I was _actually_ looking for anyone of the main cast. After I'd seen the Forbes family I couldn't help but be curious about the others. Was Elena with Bonnie? Or was she with Stefan? Was Damon roaming the shadows watching her? Or was he already with Caroline and manipulating her from behind the scenes? What about Matt? Wasn't he looking for his sister? I thought about Jeremy, wondering if he was behind a dumpster somewhere getting high.

I swatted the thoughts. God, I wasn't even involved and all I could think about was the Mystic Falls Scooby Gang. Even though I pretty much confirmed myself, it was still having trouble sinking into my brain.

"She texted a minute ago. Five minutes." Vee said. "Just came over to tell you I'm gonna take a leak." The fourteen year old bounced up from the wall.

"I might as well take a toilet break before Soloan and the others get here." I blew out the flame on my candle. It faded, and I stood up. I followed her, not really knowing where I was going still and not used to the town.

I didn't expect for her to drag me here.

Mystic Grill.

Rule number one; if I could help it, _never_ come here.

Vee glanced at me with a small frown on her face. "Ave?"

I hesitated and cleared my throat when I realised I was staring silently. "You know, I heard things about this place."

A confused frown lined her face. "What things?"

"Someone got food poisoning." I lied.

"Well, it's lucky I'm only using the toilet then." Vee smirked, either not taking notice of the apprehension digging into me or hopefully not noticing.

I tried to calm myself down. What was the harm? Damon didn't know Vee, she was a kid who didn't have any ties to the characters, that I knew of. We were just two innocent passerbyers. Basic background props. Logically, I knew I had nothing to worry about.

"I'll wait for you here." I told her as we stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind me. My hands clenched my unlit candle.

I vaguely remembered coming here before my mental breakdown, and after a quick glance around at the bar a familiar shadow caught my eye. My heart skipped a beat, and dipped into ice. I felt myself still, like a deer in headlights. My breathing shallowed, a weird feeling mixed between awe and horror surged in my chest.

I could only see him from the side but it was still _unnerving_ to be in the same vicinity to say the least. Despite that he looked so relaxed and just like any other human, I knew better, I knew it better because I happened to know of his true nature. My throat hitched as I stared, as if expecting him to lunge out at me.

I tried not to let my eyes keep drifting toward him, but failed.

His long legs were bent, resting lazily on the supporting frames of his stool. Dark umber hair curled underneath his ears, a few strands in his faraway eyes. The warm lights of the restaurant licked the back of his leather jacket, and he was noticeably drinking a glass of something, if I had to take an educated guess I'd have to say it was bourbon.

I almost couldn't quite believe the sight, and realised that if I didn't look away, it would look like I was gawking. I'd prefer for him to chalk it down to a look of attraction from one of his many admirers, but if there was one thing that I hated about myself; I was an open book.

There was no doubt he'd see the claw of fear clutching around my heart. He was a predator. He was a _vampire_. He knew the look. If he didn't _see_ it, he would most definitely _hear_ my heart pounding.

I forced my eyes away, trying to calm my heart, and found myself suddenly looking into the cheerful expression of a stranger. I jumped out of my skin I realised she was standing there, but she didn't seem to notice, "well, hi there stranger!"

I cleared my throat, politely inclining my head with a smile. She was a waitress, and seemed familiar, so my head quickly put the pieces together. She was the one who told me where I was my first day. That was a _fun_ little bubble of denial. "Oh. Hello."

"How you doing, kiddo?" I did a quick scan of her face, trying to put a name to it. B… something. "Did you manage to sort everythin' out?" Her voice lowered a little, and I felt a tad awkward when she leaned in and put her hand on my shoulder, "the whole condition thing?"

I nodded, faintly listening to the music in the background. I recognised the song, it was one of my favourites by The Doors. _Break on Through_ , I recalled. It blended with muffled chatter by patrons, and the commotion over by the pool table. A couple of men being loud and cheerful. _Lad's night out_? I distantly wondered.

"Yeah, kind of." My hands were clammy, a nervous and uneasy tick in my fingers. I cursed the bar for being so close to the entrance. She talked more but I was a bit distracted, and I had to look twice. Another familiar face walked in. My eyes swiftly shot to Damon and I felt myself tense when she spoke to him.

A few images through my mind, nulling the sounds of the grill. My head whirled, surrounded by a heavy fog. _A shrill noise. Running water. Vicious snarling. A scream._

My mouth felt dry. My blood gushed. I couldn't breathe. I could see Damon's head turn in her direction, and she looked very uncomfortable all of a sudden, rushing off toward the ladies toilets. The images flickered in my mind again, this time it burned in my blood and spun the room. I gasped for air, leaning on a nearby table. Distantly I heard the concerned waitress, and feel the light pressure of her hand on my arm.

"-call the hospital?" Her voice faded back in. I peered up at her, my vision refocused.

That telltale heartbeat of mine pulsed in my ears, and I watched Damon, who was downing the remaining bourbon, there was a familiar hardened edge to his eyes.

 _ **Vee is in there.**_


End file.
